I Don't Want To Die
by ShadowedSoulSpirit
Summary: A sequel to I'm Still Here. After his failed suicide attempt, Saruhiko Fushimi has to find some way to help Misaki Yata move on. The bad thing is, Fushimi isn't sure what to make of Yata. The stupid vanguard still wants to die after all. Heavy mentions of suicide. Warnings Inside.


**I Don't Want To Die**

* * *

**A K Project sequel.**

**Summary: **After his failed suicide attempt, Saruhiko Fushimi has to find some way to help Misaki Yata move on. The bad thing is, Fushimi isn't sure what to make of Yata. The stupid vanguard still wants to die after all. This is a sequel to I'm Still Here.

**Warning:** This has heavy repeated mention of suicide, language, and FushimixYata if you squint and tilt your head a little.

**Note: ** This_ is_ the sequel to _**I'm Still Here. **_It helps if you read that first one. I said this would be a little sequel, and it turned into something more. I hope you like it!

* * *

A blank mind is a dark mind, because without anything, there would be no light; only nothingness and nothingness is akin to the dark. Minor things in people's lives can ignite a spark to help combat the dark. While the shadows still remain, Misaki Yata was grateful that Saruhiko Fushimi was indeed still around; he just wasn't there at the present moment.

"For God's sake Saru stop babysitting me!"

"But Mi~Sa~Ki~"

Kusanagi slammed the wine glass a little too hard into the bar. The two had been bickering for days, and the bar owner was close to kicking them out. They were scaring his customers away.

"Least they're lively," Anna spoke, rolling her marble beneath her fingertips. Kusanagi lit a cigarette in his aggravation.

"Too lively," He grumbled, tossing his cleaning rag beneath the counter.

"It's better than him being dead," The marble slipped from her grasp, and rolled off the edge, pinging the floor. The bartender ran his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah… I know…"

He looked at Anna, and she smiled up at him. "Things are getting better for him. Least he knows now he isn't alone."

She hoped off the stool to retrieve her marble, but it was wedged in a narrow crack, out of her fingers reach. Even in the shadows, the crystalized red glimmered, and if she stared hard enough she could see the faces of Mikoto and Tatara imprinted on the surface.

_I'm sorry. We get to keep him a little longer okay?_

"Problem?" Kusanagi dragged the cigarette from his lips, noticing the girl hadn't reappeared yet.

"It's stuck," She replied, managing to wiggle one finger into the crack, but it wasn't long enough to scoop up the marble.

"You have others," She pouted, but retracted all the same, patting the dust from her dress. Over their heads, there was a crash, and a tick comically formed at Kusanagi's temple.

"That's it!" He marched up the stairs, Anna at his heels.

Hearing the bartender's boisterous approach, the quarreling duo looked at each other and issued one response.

"Hide!"

The room lacked furniture, making evasion quite difficult. Yata managed to wedge himself behind an empty bookcase, and Fushimi dropped behind the couch the moment Kusanagi slammed the door open.

"I will rip both your heads off if you don't come out right now," The bartender threatened darkly.

Anna giggled when the vanguard let out a frightened squeak. The blond strode over to the bookcase, grimacing when he saw the entire contents of such spilt on the floor, and found Misaki Yata trapped in the corner, as if he too was another marble of Anna's, lost and unreachable.

"H-hey Mr. Kusanagi!" The vanguard rubbed the back of his head, feeling bear without his hat on. In response, the older grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him from his poor choice of hiding.

"When I'm done with you," Kusanagi began to rant, "You will never scare off another of my customers—"

"Run Misaki!" Fushimi stripped the couch of a pillow and flung it at Kusanagi, hitting him square in the nose. Yata took the distraction, hoping over the couch to join the snickering blue on the other side.

"Brat!" The blond roared, close to ringing the duo's necks.

Both Fushimi and Yata laughed at this, but finished abruptly, staring at one another with memories at the forefront of their minds. It was like it used to be, back when they were friends; back when they shared the experience of Homra.

They failed to notice Kusanagi leaning over the couch.

"I'm still here you two," The tick was twitching, showing his rage. Yata's heart stung, the previous days still fresh on his mind.

"Hey Kusanagi?" Sweet Anna asked, and when the bartender turned, she smacked him with a pillow.

"Hey!"

Saruhiko Fushimi smirked, and yanked the third and final cushion from out of the blond's grasp.

"Hey Anna! Pass it to me!" Anna gladly handed the pillow to Yata, smiling as the blue and the red make their way to the bartender, pillows raised above their heads.

"Don't you dare," Kusanagi warned.

"Do it! Do it!" The little girl chanted, and the duo glanced at one another for a brief moment before showing the blond the wrath of throw pillows.

It's in these moments Yata wondered why he wished to die in the first place. That is before he would look at Anna, and a bitter reminder would seep in. Mikoto would no longer stand at her side. Tatara would no longer tease her and play with her. He allowed them to be taken away from her. He failed Homra, but even more so, he had failed Anna. Such realization caused him to lower the pillow and halt the attack. Maybe, maybe it would have been best if he had drowned that day.

"Misaki," Fushimi caught his arm. He knew that face. The idiot was thinking about it again. Roughly, the vanguard yanked his arm away.

"Back off Fushimi."

It's been like this ever since the bridge incident. Misaki Yata would be happy one moment, then regretful the next. There was a few ways Fushimi could tell which way Yata was swinging. One was the particular expression he was making, and two was he'd call him Fushimi and not Saru when he reconsidered his almost death experience.

"Misaki Yata," He narrowed his eyes, obtaining his grip again.

"Fuck off Saru!" Tears shined in the vanguard's irises, and he rubbed his eyes harshly to banish them, "For once I want to be left alone!"

Saruhiko regarded Kusanagi and Anna for a moment. Every fiber of his being screamed for him not to do it, but it was the only thing that calmed Misaki down. With a sigh—along with a grumble beneath his breath—the blue wrapped his arms tightly around the vanguard, feeling his face burrow into the front of his uniform coat.

"I'm still here Misaki… I'm still here…"

He could feel Kusanagi's eyes dissecting him on the spot, searching for an alter motive, and it unnerved the blue. However, the member of Scepter 4 would be damned if Yata attempted to commit suicide _again._ He doesn't stick his neck out for people just for his stroke of goodwill to be thrown back in his face.

"Mikoto… Totsuka…" The vanguard whimpered against the fabric of Fushimi's shirt.

Sometimes he forgot who he was; who Misaki Yata stood for, because the pain of loss was overbearing. He had kept it bottled up so long, and like his explosive temper, it came abruptly and would disappear just as quick.

"Let's go downstairs and try to get my marble out," Anna suggested, grabbing Kusanagi's hand. For a moment, her eyes probed the blue too, but whatever she found satisfied her, and she left with the bartender in tow.

Clicking his tongue in frustration, Fushimi let one hand thread into Yata's lose hair. He was like a flipping switch. One moment he was crying, the next he was screaming. Honestly, it was annoying sometimes. All of Homra was breathing down the blue's neck on top of it, waiting for him to cross that undefined line so they could beat him up or worse. Troublesome indeed.

"They are dead Misaki," Fushimi bluntly stated, "And I doubt they would want someone as aggravating as you joining them."

"Sh…shut it monkey…" He meekly replied, but the retort held nothing of what the vanguard was. Misaki Yata was an ember, and his words were like flames. It unnerved Fushimi that the Yata in his arms was not the same red as before.

"_I couldn't protect them. They all died. It was my duty to protect them and I failed."_

"Are you calm now?" The blue blatantly asked, willing all his questions to die in his throat. _Why did you try so hard? Is being a vanguard so important? _He couldn't help himself. His last question slipped, "Don't you find life worth living without them?"

The red stiffened against him, before he shoved the warm body away. The warmth was false wasn't it? An attempt to let him divulge in luxuries; to tread on the hellish side of living. He didn't deserve the warmth, the care, the phrases repeated over and over in his ears.

"_I'm still here."_

Misaki Yata deserved to die. By living, he was just committing a greater sin.

He still wanted to die.

"No I don't." He spat the words out. They tasted like poison, "Because I don't deserve to be here."

"You do—"

"I don't Saru!" The red snapped, wrapping his arms around himself, "I'm such a failure! I shouldn't be here."

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, "Then kill yourself."

The words stung the vanguard's heart, but he wasn't sure why. Just moment's ago, he didn't want Yata to die. He searched the blue's face for answers.

"Yo…you're giving me… permission?"

Fushimi shrugs, "If you do it, that means I'm a failure. I'll have to kill myself too, considering your logic."

Yata's mouth puckered in distaste. Of course he would twist his words around.

"Go ahead. Slit your wrists Misaki. Jump off a bridge again. I'll follow you after."

The vanguard's eyes wept for him, but he hardly felt the tears cascading down his cheeks.

"Why..? Why Saru…?" He whispered, staring at the cold, stoic eyes of Homra's traitor.

"I saved you for a reason idiot," The blue scoffed, "Stop wasting it. Your life is not garbage that you can throw out whenever you're done with it. Think about Anna."

He thought about Anna, but all he could imagine was her not having Fushimi, Mikoto, or Totsuka, all because of him. Clenching his fists tightly, he let his nails dig into the ridge of his palms. He could kill himself like he rightfully deserved. Why does he feel sick thinking of Fushimi doing the same?

"_I'm still here."_

His hands find his hair and he gripped it tightly, wishing the voice would go away. He doesn't deserve to be at peace with everything. He doesn't deserve it.

"Yata." Alarmed, the red looked at the traitor. Never does he call him by that name. It was always Misaki, Misaki, Misaki.

"Do you want to die?" He questioned plainly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Yes."

Saruhiko so badly wanted to lash out at him, to call him an idiot and smack him on the head. He promptly reminded himself however that Yata was like a child, and had to be treated like one. Some things never change.

"Alright." The blue nodded his head. Misaki raised an eyebrow.

"Alright… what?"

"I'm going to make you not want to die. We are going to have so much fun Mi~Sa~Ki~"

The vanguard groaned, his tears drying in their place, "Don't get creepy Saru."

"Mi~Sa~Ki~"

"Fucking shut it!"

* * *

A plan was formulating in Saruhiko Fushimi's mind. The plan included exploiting the good in the world and showing it to Misaki Yata so he would stop trying to die. The troublesome part? Saru hated everything. He himself didn't like much at all. He found most things rather annoying and not worth his time. Convincing Yata to live would defiantly be a hassle.

"Where the hell are we going Saru?" Yata grumbled.

"Places."

The two unlikeliest of counterparts had ditched their regular attire for the day. Saruhiko decided to go casual with jeans and a T-shirt he stole (borrowed) from Homra. Yata on the other and wore a dark shirt and dark pants, as if he could erase himself into the shadows. Just his clothes in general bothered the blue. He was purposely covering up his tattoo.

"Great…" Yata snorted, "I get to spend personal time with the monkey."

"You enjoy it Mi~Sa~Ki~" He managed to coax a glare from him, but it was weak and half-hearted. He's too emotionally tired to get pissed.

"Will you tell me where we are going?" The red watched his feet as he walked. Saruhiko noticed Yata had changed everything. Even his trademark sneakers were traded in for a solid black pair. There was not a single square of red fabric on him. He looked nothing like a red at all.

"You'll know when we get there. Patience is a virtue Misaki."

He grunted, "Virtue my ass. You don't have virtues."

"I have some."

"Like leaving Homra?" Fushimi took the front of Yata's shirt, using it to maneuver Yata into the wall of an alleyway.

"What is your problem? One moment you're crying on my shoulder, and the next you're acting like such a brat," The vanguard slapped his hand away.

"I don't know what to think Saru."

"Obviously. You are so bipolar. When will Misaki be back?"

"When will Saru come back," The red scowled.

"Haven't we been over this Misaki? I'm right here. I've been here the entire time ."

Yata fell silent. His mind felt like another fight between the reds and the blues. Part of him was binding himself to rules like killing himself over his failures; while the other wanted to fight it all off, to be free like Mikoto had made Homra to be. He gritted his teeth. He shouldn't be in Homra anyway.

"Stop it Misaki. This isn't you and you know it. Where is the real Misaki Yata? Where is that spark?"

The vanguard pushed him away, turning towards the mouth of the alleyway. "Let's just get on with it."

Fushimi frowned and shook his head, but nevertheless led the red back to the path he was taking. What was once Yata was slipping through his fingers. If he didn't do something soon, all that would be left of him would be fragments. He would not let the red destroy himself.

"Here we are." The blue stopped in front of a store, grimacing at the sight. It wasn't the grandest place in the world, but it would have to do.

Yata huffed, "Let's get it over with." He pushed the door open and went inside without so much as looking at the sign.

Inside was an electronics store, all the latest creations Japan had to offer proudly on display. Yata questioningly looked at the traitor, and in response, Saruhiko dragged him over to a section strictly for headphones.

"Pick out one," He explained, "I'm buying."

The vanguard gaped at him, "Why…?"

"Does everything I do need an explanation Misaki?" Fushimi ridiculed, "Because you lost yours and you need a new pair. Pick something out."

Misaki stared at the boxes of assorted headphones, filling something well in his chest. The blue just pitied him, didn't he? Was that why he was attempting to be nice?

Fushimi raised an eyebrow, "Do I need to pick one out for you Mi~Sa~Ki~?"

Yata smacked his arm, but his thoughts were still scattered. He didn't deserve this kindness or pity or whatever it was. He deserved to pay for what he failed to do. Saruhiko tapped his foot impatiently, but the vanguard just continued to stare blankly at the boxes. This was a bust.

"Here." Saruhiko picked up one the display models, settling it around Misaki's neck. It was black like the rest of his attire, but it had flares of red along the edges and on the power button so conveniently placed on the side of the headphones. Even though it was only a little red, it was an improvement.

"What do you think Misaki?" Yata shrugged in response, moving to pull it off. The blue stopped him.

"Keep it on. It's yours now."

While Fushimi purchased the headphones, Yata couldn't help but fiddle with the controls. It had one big button on each side. By clicking the right, he caused the music to start blaring, and he could use it as a dial as well to control the volume. He clicked the left, and everything went silent. Saruhiko returned, looking amused.

"You look good in that color."

Yata ripped the headphones off, seeing that the red had changed to a deep blue.

"Reds better monkey!" He clicked the left again, and it was restored back to the crimson color. Fushimi smiled, even if it was only a little. He had just uncovered a fragment of Misaki Yata. The question is, could he find anymore?

"Come on Misaki. The day isn't over yet."

"Oh great…"

* * *

If Misaki Yata was clueless on their way to the electronics store, then now he was defiantly confused as Saruhiko Fushimi purchased two sodas, the liquid of such spilling over the lips of the bottles.

"Just what the hell are we doing now Saru?" The headphones felt warm against his neck. Why is his greatest enemy doing this? He couldn't wrap his head around it.

"Patience Misaki," The blue started walking, and the vanguard had no choice but to follow him.

"Why are you being so nice?"

"If I was mean you'd probably kill yourself over it."

Yata grinded his teeth, "I would not."

The blue stopped abruptly, and Yata almost walked into his back.

"What is it you said? 'It's like you're dead because when I'm fighting you, I see your face but I don't see the real Saru?'" He quoted bitterly, "'I lost him when I couldn't convince him to stay'?"

Misaki stared at his feet.

"You don't like it when I'm snarky, and you complain when I'm nice. Just quit whining already." Yata failed to notice he had started moving again. It took him several strides to catch up.

To amuse himself against the expanding silence, Yata began to click the buttons of his new headphones. Even though he wasn't voicing it, Saruhiko could tell by his tendencies that he liked it. After a short walk, they stop at a light post.

"This is the place."

Misaki glanced each direction, "What the fuck are we doing here?" The blue plopped down, leaning against the post, "Saru!"

"Relaxing Misaki." He took a sip of his pop, holding the other bottle to the red. He huffed and jerked it from his grip, letting some of the liquid slosh out as he too sat down on the pavement of the sidewalk.

"I don't understand you Saru."

"You'll remember eventually Misaki."

They sat like this for a few minutes, Fushimi sipping at his—he wasn't much for carbonated drinks anymore—and Yata chugging his until nothing remained, and he smiled triumphantly at the blue.

"I win."

Fushimi lifted an eyebrow, "It wasn't a race."

"You just say that because you lost."

Saruhiko rolled his eyes, and goes to take another drink when the bottle was suddenly grabbed from his hand. Yata took a big swig, and winced, smacking his lips at the taste.

"This tastes horrible!" He goes to throw it across the street, when his whole body suddenly stopped.

"_You'll remember eventually Misaki."_

He does remember, and for a moment he wondered, if he threw this, will Mikoto be there to catch it again? To entice him into Homra, to become a red? Would Totsuka and Kusanagi be at his side, like before?

Saruhiko stared ahead, "They won't be here Misaki." He murmured, closing his eyes when Yata angrily splattered the glass against the pavement.

"Then why take me here! Why make me relive that!" The red demanded, rising to his feet.

"For a moment you were Misaki Yata. Only he would race me in something as trivial is drinking."

Yata wanted to be furious, but how can he? It was obvious Saru was trying to help him, as strange as it was. Everything just reminded him of Mikoto and Tatara. He could never escape them. Fushimi slowly got up, stretching his back like a feline to create a course of pops.

"Hey Saru?"

The blue glanced at Yata, waiting for the boy to speak.

"You have a strange taste in soda." The traitor had been expecting something deeper, and was a little taken aback. Nevertheless, he brushed it off.

"It's getting late. I have something else I want to try."

"I think you're trying to hard Saru."

"Don't you appreciate it Mi~Sa~Ki?"

"Fucker!"

* * *

Misaki Yata had never thought he would be standing behind Saruhiko Fushimi, waiting for him to unlock his house. It looked like all the other houses squished together, leaving no place for grass to grow. How Fushimi was able to distinguish his from the rest was a feat he would never understand.

"It's open Misaki." The vanguard hadn't noticed.

"Er… right…" He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly and passed over the threshold, easing the door closed behind him. The house resembled the blue himself, Yata thought. It lacked personality, and was spotless. He wondered how often he really used it.

Saruhiko kicked his shoes off in the doorway, "Just leave your shoes here."

He waited patiently for the vanguard to do so before leading him to his bedroom.

Yata opened his mouth, "Don't ask where we are going." The blue snapped before he can speak. The red closed his mouth again. Fushimi cracked open the door to his bedroom, just enough for Yata to catch a glimpse of what was inside. Just like the rest of the place, it was clean and tidy, a flat panel hanging on the wall directly in line with the bed. Beneath it was a black box, something Yata recognized instantly.

"Saru…you…"

"Kept the gaming system we played with as kids? Yeah." Yata pushed the door open further, walking inside, while Fushimi hung back. With all the mood swings the vanguard has been through, he wasn't sure how he will react to this.

"You have the old games?"

Saruhiko snorted, "Of course. What's the point of a gaming system without the games Misaki?"

The vanguard looked at him, and the blue was stunned. He appeared happy. Genuinely happy.

"Can we play? One round? Please?"

"Tch. Whatever."

Saruhiko connected the system up to his TV, tossing a control to Misaki who eagerly caught it. It felt like years since he last touched a console, the final time being… a tournament… with… Tatara…

The traitor easily sensed the mood had slipped when he inserted the memory stick into the console. Just like a light switch.

He sighed, "What is it now Misaki."

Yata shook his head, and said nothing, limply holding the controller in his lap.

"Why do you always look at the bad things?"

Yata scanned his face, "I could ask you the same thing, Saru."

"Tch. Least I saw some good in the day. You got upset over every little thing we did."

"Did not!"

"Oh yeah, name one thing you enjoyed." He couldn't, "Exactly."

"Really Saru? Then what did you like about the day? Probably nothing, because you hate everything!"

"I got to actually talk to my best friend, even though he only came a few times today!"

Everything sunk into a bittersweet silence. The blue tched again and stared at the TV screen. He couldn't believe he just admitted that.

"Y…you really think… I'm gone…?"

For a brief moment, Fushimi's expression softened. It wasn't there for long, "Yes. But he's in there somewhere. I got to see him sometimes. When he played with his headphones. When he beat me in something as simple as drinking. When he wanted to play video games." He turned to the red, and was nearly alarmed to see him crying.

"And… the other Yata… the one that's gone…" He whispered, the tears heavily slipping down his face, "What would he do… after… losing…?"

"He would get stronger. So he could protect everyone. He would remember his friends in a positive light, and would keep moving forward. That's what Misaki Yata would do."

Yata pressed his palms into his eyes. Had he really been that arrogant all along? That this person, this person who wanted to die was not him at all? And after everything… Fushimi still considered him his best friend?

"I know he's in there Misaki. Do you still want to die?"

Yata raised his head, transfixed by the blurry figure that was Saruhiko Fushimi.

"I… I don't know…"

"Well…," He exhaled softly, "What game do you want to play?"

"The usual…?"

"Really Misaki? Haven't you grown out of that stuff already?"

"Says the guy that kept our gaming system since middle school."

"…I get first player."

"Hey!"

* * *

Misaki Yata left Saruhiko Fushimi's house feeling lighter. It was late at night, forcing the vanguard not to stray from the trail of lights lining the sidewalks. He did have a little fun, he would admit, but he also did some heavy thinking. Fushimi and Yata had played for about an hour before they began to talk—and did so well into the night.

"_I trust you Misaki. But I swear if you kill yourself on the way home I'm finding the nearest bridge."_

"_I won't, I won't."_

He smiled a little at the thought. He didn't deserve his trust, but he received it all the same. He doesn't deserve to live, but he was anyway, and there was a beauty to that; he's living in their memories, Mikoto and Tatara's alike. He is living with a purpose. He pressed the left button on the headphones and watched the blue light waltz across the shadows. He never would tell Fushimi, but he really did like his headphones.

"Hey nice headphones shorty." The vanguard spun around, an angry tick forming on the side of his head. If anything, calling him shorty would defiantly provoke Misaki Yata to come out, and force the grief away.

"Watch who you're calling shorty asshole." Before him stood three thugs, all a good three to four inches taller than Yata himself. They weren't associated to any color.

"Oh he's got some fire in him!" The fattest of the three teased, a baseball bat slung over his shoulder.

"Damn straight." Yata couldn't prevent himself from doing. It was a natural impulse. He grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked it to the side, Homra's symbol prominent against his pale skin.

"Scary~!" The leader mocked, pretending to cower behind the third guy, "You are a red! Last time I checked though, your king is dead, right?"

Before, the fact would have easily defeated him. But the words of his greatest rival, his sworn enemy, his best friend have changed something in him. He now knows who he truly is. Misaki Yata. Homra's vanguard, the one who won't give up.

"You'll be joining him if you don't shut the fuck up!"

All three of them chuckled before the leader spoke again.

"Just give us those headphones and anything else you got and we'll leave you alone, little red riding hood."

Yata gripped his headphones, remembering earlier that day when Fushimi showed he was capable of caring through everything. Like hell was he going to give it up.

"Over my dead body."

He considered his options. Running was not one of them. His eyes settled on the baseball bat in the grubby one's hands. He needed _that._

"You know, I think we can a hear to that boys. What do you think?" The other two nodded their head in agreement, and for once Yata was glad he was small. He slammed his fist into the fats one's face before anyone even realized he was moving, and ripped the baseball bat from his fingers. He took a swing, and knocked the legs out from under the third guy; but the leader was behind him, a knife pressed against the vanguard's neck before he could deliver another blow.

"You little bastard—" The red didn't let him finish. He jabbed the handle of the bat into his gut and jumped away, but the leader came after him. He raised the bat, prepared to swing, but the leader lunged, aiming for a hand, and blade sliced the veins on his wrists, causing a searing pain to leap up his arm.

Yata cried out, and swung with one arm, connecting with his chin. Misaki never runs from a fight, but blood was pouring from his wrist, even with his other hand clamped against it. It was a matter of pride and his life, and he reflected on the events throughout the day. He doesn't give them time to recover after doing so. He took off down the street.

He tried to remember where Saru's house was, but the world was contracting around him, coming in and out of focus. The pain in his wrist was like liquid fire, pumping up the entire length of his arm. Blue bounded across the pavement before him, swaying as he did. He found a door and began to pound on it, his fist bloody and pale. He wasn't for sure if it was Fushimi's or not, but by the grumbles and complaints on the other side of the door it had to be. He felt ready to tip over when the door flung open.

Saruhiko Fushimi wasn't too pleased when he heard the knocking at the door, and had half a mind to ignore it. It usually was someone from Scepter 4, sent out after he ignored all their messages and calls. Something told him however, to answer the door this time, so answer it he did. He was greeted with the sight of a deathly white Misaki Yata, one wrist slit and the other covered with blood.

"What the hell Misaki!" He yanked him inside, lowering him to the floor so he could bring back a towel to wrap around his wrist. He was in total disbelief. After it all, he had thought, finally, finally Yata understood. Apparently not.

"I can't believe you…"

The vanguard shook his head no, but his tongue wouldn't move. He couldn't explain. He was so tired.

"I can't believe you still want to kill yourself."

"No…"

"You are such an idiot. Why would you want to Misaki? Why? I just don't understand."

"No….."

"Tell me."

Briefly, Misaki Yata summoned the strength he thought he had lost during the whole ordeal, using every moment since he jumped off that bridge to help him overcome the fatigue.

"No Saru! I don't want to die!"

The blue was astounded; not knowing what to say. Yata's head lulled back. There wasn't much time left. Saruhiko Fushimi lifted Misaki Yata up, despite the fact that they were enemies, that one of them was red and the other was blue, and carried the bleeding vanguard out the door as fast as he could in the dark, watching the blood dripping from the limp red's body as if they were another one of Anna's marbles rolling across the ground.

"Then prove it Misaki. Don't die on me."

* * *

**Dare I ask… trilogy?**

**Also… should I turn this into a SaruMi? What do you think?**

**-Soul Spirit-**


End file.
